


Laissez Les Bons Temp Rouler

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingerfucking, a dirty public bathroom during mardi gras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23688736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: God, he’s got a dirty mouth when he’s drunk. He’s all swears and hands and breath and sweat. He’s so loose, you’d say he was lazy if he wasn’t so fucking good at everything.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	Laissez Les Bons Temp Rouler

**Author's Note:**

> Because I wanna have sloppy, drunk, dirty-talking sex with Jensen (or Dean) and that top left image reminded me SO VIVIDLY.

You squeal, spinning into the bathroom just as he throws the lock on the door.

Fuck the other patrons in this place. Yeah, it’s Mardi Gras. Yeah, it’s almost midnight and it’s been a day full of liquid imbibing for 99% of the people on the other side of that door.

But Dean’s had just enough whiskey to agree to it, so no one’s gonna stop him from pushing your shirt up over your satin-encased breasts as he backs you against the wall. No one’s getting in the way of his lips crashing against yours, teeth scraping, heavy breath and hands.

“D’you see that girl’s face when we pushed passed her?” you whisper, arching your neck so he can feast on the salty-slick skin of your throat. “Can’t decide if she’s pissed we got here first or that she’s not in here with you.”

He scoffs and shakes his head and presses you into the plaster, lifts you almost off your feet with his hands tight around your ribcage, cupping your breasts. He pushes his knee between yours and his thigh massages your wet cunt.

“Fuck her,” he breathes, burying his hot mouth in your cleavage, licking and sucking. “I love your tits.”

“Fuck me,” you reply. “I love your mouth.”

You grip his shoulders and lift your legs to wrap around his waist and sigh, rubbing against him.

He chuckles, then, thick and smug as he turns to set your ass on the sink. “This place is fuckin’ nasty,” he says, twisting your hair in his fingers and pulling, smirking down at you. “Want me t’make ya come on this filthy ass sink – moanin’ my name, all wet and tight…”

God, he’s got a dirty mouth when he’s drunk. He’s all swears and hands and breath and sweat. He’s so loose, you’d say he was lazy if he wasn’t so fucking good at everything.

“Spread these pretty knees for me nice and wide,” he says, keeping a hold on your hair and using his other hand to pull the cups of your bra out of his way.

He dips his head to lave and suck and nip at your hot sensitive nipples. You hiss and squirm atop the messy bathroom counter. The fabric of your skirt bunches and pulls under you and he drops his hand between your open legs.

“Panties’re soaked,” he groans, grazing the damp material with his knuckles.

“Jesus, Dean,” you gasp and wriggle against his touch.

It’s the perfect storm, the perfect level of buzz, Dean’s perfect and beautiful and feels so good no matter what he does.

His voice, his hands, his body – everything is perfect.

“You’re ‘bout to pop, huh?” he asks with a smile in his voice, taking your lips with his and sliding his fingers inside the leg of your underwear. “Fuckin’ love it when you drink tequila, so fuckin’ horny – prob’ly let me do anything I wanted.”

You whine and rock your hips, feeling his rough knuckles roll through your dripping slit. Then he just starts grinding them against you, against your open cunt and your clit.

Dean drags his mouth from yours, down your throat, and over your collarbone to tease your nipples again with the tip of his tongue. He flicks and sucks the hardened nubs until you’re sobbing and shuddering.

“Dean…” Your voice is pitched high and hoarse as your breasts bounce against his face and he knuckles into you deliberate and hard.

“Such a pretty mess,” he whispers before taking a mouthful of your skin between his teeth. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

You feel every muscle in your body clench and shift as he pulls his head up to look down at you. His eyes are half-hooded and his lips are parted just enough for his wet tongue and breath to coax you over the edge of rapture.

**_If you like what you’ve read, please let me know and/or[buy me a coffee](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fthoughtslikeaminefield&t=ZGQ5M2VkYWI3MjVkMGI5MDk3ZjY3NGRkNzAzMGNlODc5YTAyZThjYSxUaE81VFBqRg%3D%3D&b=t%3A5F-pfMSSsnIX9bPD1pBMKA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fthoughtslikeaminefield.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F182881698948%2Fget-down-make-love&m=1)!_ **


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